Jotunheim Up in Flames
by wintercandymints
Summary: "The day Sif falls for Fandral's charms will be the day Jotunheim goes up in flames." And that's exactly what happened. But, she's still not into him.


**Prologue**

Light, soft and gentle, cast its rays across the quieting realm in muted gold as a lone woman stood at the top of the palace stairs and gazed out. Behind her, the cheer of festivities sounded in mirth, one she could not lose herself in. The laughter, the feast, her companions – there was something about tonight that made her unable to enjoy these things she so often had the pleasure of partaking in. She had needed to get away hence, when the opportune time arose, she went out, unnoticed, for fresh air. Her eyes traced the sun as it dipped from her view, leaving the realm to bath in the shadows of night.

This was her home. She grew up here. She lived, she played, she trained here. It was all she knew. Her gaze roamed over the houses, the ones she walked about every day and warmth blossomed in her chest at the memories elicited by sight alone. Her mouth tugged into a smile, but she could feel the falsehood in it. Deep down in the roots of her heart, there was something pulling at her. Something placing her apart from all this. She lived, she played, she trained here, but why was she disconnected from it? She was a blade without a hilt. She was a sheath without a sword. Something odd.

Time and time again, years that turned into decades, she eased into this routine. As any routine, there was a rhythm to it, a standard she followed fluidly. Train, battle, reminisce. It was not the same every day, of course – battles differed and fight for glory did not always follow a schedule – but, it was a routine of sorts. Practice her swordsmanship, fight off threats to the Realm Eternal, return home and hear the re-telling of the battle through the mouths of her companions. A comfortable routine. And she fell into it, time and time again, over and over, and for a while she would fool herself. She belonged here. She was needed here. What would Asgard do without her? And for a while, she would be content.

Then, the truth, hideous creature it was, would sweep in like the beginning of dark clouds, harbingers to a storm that would take all she built up over the past decades and tear it asunder. It started out as a whisper, then it would grow and soon it would become a boisterous roar that she no longer could ignore. _You do not belong here._

Tonight the roaring was loud, pounding relentlessly in her ears. Everything - the finery, the people, the laughter – it did not belong to her. It was not hers to have. Immersed, included, laughing along with them, it never helped. It never could. She could be in a full-blown laugh with head thrown back, enjoying the moment, the feast, but as soon as she felt it – that tiny, tiny pang in her heart, the whisper of truth – all happiness fled from her as if escaping the plague. She was detached; she did not belong there. And she needed to go. To get away. To escape. She did not understand, but deep down, she always had a feeling of wanting more than what was offered in this realm. Something more than she could comprehend. What was it?

"Lady Sif?"

Sif started, turning to find a servant, silhouetted by the soft lights filtering from inside, staring back at her. "Yes?" she asked after a beat of silence.

"Sorry for startling you," The servant bowed.

Shaking her head, she assured him, "It is alright." Glancing over the landscape, she added, "I was only getting some fresh air."

He nodded. "Of course, Lady Sif. I was about to ask if you would not rather return to the feast?"

Sif did not hesitate and headed back into the loud noise and bright lights, leaving her thoughts to flit into the wind to be forgotten in the night's activities. After all, were not these feelings frivolous? She was of Asgard. There was no question. This was her home. Whatever feelings she had of wanting more were nothing, but strange infatuations her heart spurred on her in the heat of the moment. At least, that was what she always told herself after the truth settled in, and once again, she began her true routine, the one where she built herself up in believing she was content in Asgard, only to have the truth tear her back down.

As for tonight, the roaring was pushed back to a soft whisper as she put on a smile and laughed with the others.


End file.
